


The Same Eyes

by LouPF



Category: The Little Mermaid (1989), The Little Mermaid - All Media Types
Genre: (as support animals), Angst, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Dwarves Only Love Once, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Good Ursula, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Magic Manipulation, Nonbinary Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, She just doesn't show it, and ariel has a lot of love to give, ariel is smart, but ic when compared to her backstory in this story, eventually, except that it's merfolk, flotsam and jetsam are basically cats, obviously, ofc she is but now she's smartER, that would be flotsam and jetsam, ursula adopts ariel, ursula is an actual witch, ursula is ooc when compared to canpn, ursula just wants to be loved damnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-28 19:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18212579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouPF/pseuds/LouPF
Summary: The plan is to use Ariel to get to Triton - but then Ariel enters Ursula's cave with Athena's hair and Ursula's determination and her heart set on a human man.Ursula has never seen herself in someone more clearly than she does in Ariel. With a heavy heart and an even heavier past she decides to get Ariel to her Heart as soon as possible - no matter the cost.***Ariel's eyes are not the eyes of a mermaid hopelessly in love. No, the frightened eyes blinking back at her are the eyes of someone with something to prove. Something to find.The words die on Ursula’s lips. “Oh, sweet child,” she says, and the eyes are not Ariel’s, they are Ursula’s. “Of course I will help.”





	1. Chapter 1

Ariel, beloved daughter of Triton, is Ursula’s ticket to power. The naïve little princess just needs to be manipulated in the right way… a twist here, a shudder there, the right word at the right time, and she’ll walk right into Ursula’s hands.

That’s the plan, anyway. Lure Ariel in, write her a terrible contract, use her as blackmail, and take over the kingdom. It’s all revenge.

But then Flotsam and Jetsam pull a terrified girl into her cave, and Ariel’s cheeks are streaked with tears, her eyes bloodshot, and her hair the exact same coral red as Athena’s.

“I – I shouldn’t be here,” she whispers, and her voice is trembling, her hands shaking, eyes wide and worried. Yet she is determined to see it through.

Flotsam had assured Ursula the desperation was born because Ariel had fallen in love with a man – a Prince, in fact – and that she wanted, terribly so, to be with him.

Seeing her now, though, breaking and stubborn and determined, Ursula struggles.

Her eyes are not the eyes of a mermaid hopelessly in love. No, the frightened eyes blinking back at her are the eyes of someone with something to prove. Something to find.

The words die on Ursula’s lips. “Oh, sweet child,” she says, and the eyes are not Ariel’s, they are Ursula’s. “Of course I will help.”

Hope flickers across Ariel’s face. Ursula turns swiftly – it pains her too much to see that – and runs through her mental library of spells. There are none that will work without backfiring or taking something from Ariel in return – especially not with how bruised her heart is.

She tells Ariel as much, and the girl needs to learn to hide her emotions, for the desperation and hurt that burns on her face is so obvious even _Jetsam_ takes note.

“Give me a few weeks,” Ursula says, an olive branch through all the pain. “I’ll have something for you, then.” And there it is again, that terrible, honest hope. “Take her home, Flotsam, Jetsam.”

The eels nod, circling around Ariel once, twice, three times before leading her towards the entrance once more.

“Oh, and Ariel?” Ursula calls after them – on a whim, as a half-formed thought, a buried wish. “If you need a listening ear… you know where to find me.”

Surprise. Confusion. They shine on Ariel’s face.

It echoes in Ursula’s chest.

*

Ursula gets to work immediately. Leafing through recorded spells, double- and triple checking her stores, time and time again looking through and making sure she’s fully aware of what she has to work with.

It’s after she’s been at it for almost two hours that she finally admits defeat.

That’s how her children find her, sunken together in a heap of tentacles and open books, eyes open and unseeing. They squeak and rush over, complimenting and fussing and worrying among each other, and Ursula says nothing as she takes them into her arms and closes her eyes.

She’s used magic as long as she can remember. And still… every single spell she knows of is Dark to its very core. Not a single one of them can be done without a major sacrifice from someone involved.

Slowly, Flotsam and Jetsam calm down in her arms, wriggling around until they’re settled comfortably around her shoulders and torso, tight, tight, tight –

Well, Ursula thinks to herself, she’ll just have to learn, then.

*

She gets to work the very next day. It’s hard to make a spell from scratch – she’s only done it twice before, and she was powerless and a shell of her usual self for weeks afterwards. It’s far easier to combine already existing ones. Ursula has some experience in combining spells, but none quite as delicate or complicated as the transformation Ariel needs. On top of it all, the spell is going to become terribly taxing. It asks for a permanent sacrifice, and it needs to be important – the hard part is to find something that is _important_ , but not terribly so. Perhaps some of Ariel’s years to live, or her chance to bear children – but no, that is all too much, too expensive…

and so it continues, a desperate hunt for spells that will dull the sacrifice but still work.

*

“ _Urrrsulaaaa…”_

Ursula looks up from the various books strewn around her – notebooks and grimoires and textbooks and half-done sketches and blueprints. She realizes too late that of course she’s not going to be able to pinpoint Jetsam’s voice, she built these caves to let voices drift everywhere if desired –

“ _You have a visitor,_ ” Flotsam chimes in, interrupting her thoughts with the same hiss their voice takes on when they speak through the pipes.

Ursula grimaces down at the scribbles she’d been jotting down. Needy merfolk – she’d just managed to find something that made sense after nearly a full hour of stumbling around looking for clues. “Tell them I’m busy!” she calls.

She goes back to scribbling.

“ _It’s the young princess,”_ Flotsam says, and to the untrained ear they might sound indifferent, but Ursula knows better.

She stops. “Ariel?”

A confirming hiss from Jetsam.

“Send her in,” Ursula says, rushing to put away the blueprints, sketches, and textbooks in common. They are secrets the princess of the kingdom should not know.

It doesn’t take long before the familiar girl swims in, trailed by Flotsam and Jetsam on either side, blood-red hair in the water behind her. She looks nervous, just as uncertain as last time Ursula saw her, and even more determined.

“Someone found their courage,” Ursula mutters, putting her hands on her hips. “What is it? I said to give me some weeks, I have – ”

“Do you have a way I can see him?” Ariel blurts, after which she immediately slaps her hands to her mouth. She looks just as horrified as Ursula is surprised.

They stare at each other for a moment, Ariel trembling and Ursula still as a statue. “Flotsam, Jetsam,” she says, and though her heart is aching her voice remains the same. “My cauldron. If you will.” The two eels whisk away as soon as the order has been given, and Ursula and Ariel are alone.

It’s Ursula’s home, she’s the master of these seas, and she has never felt smaller than she does now.

She clears her throat. “It has been some time since I watched the surface,” she says, an excuse to turn to her bookshelves, jumping up high and staying there for some time. Her fingers, dancing along the backs of her older grimoires, jolt algae from their places and sends it drifting through the room. “I know the incantations, of course, only need to check to be sure.”

The silence that fills the room is awkward, but she is _Ursula_ , she is the Sea Witch, and she bites her tongue and refuses to acknowledge it.

It’s a very simple spell that requires little. The sacrifice is merely some of Ursula’s energy, and it’s given back to her once the spell is lifted. The incantation is simple as well.

Ursula floats down to the floor again, a now-open book in her hands. She skims through the cautions she wrote in, her handwriting shaky with uncertainty and fear after her then-cauldron had blown up in her face.

She notes, absently, that Ariel is hovering over her shoulder, trying – and failing – to subtly read the page. It matters little – if she’s able to read the letters soaked in magic, then she deserves to see them. Besides, it’s just a little spell – one she will be participating in. Ursula will never discourage a thirst for knowledge.

Ah, so much like Athena…

Flotsam and Jetsam arrives, then, pushing Ursula’s cauldron before them.

“Thank you, dears,” Ursula says, clapping the book shut and giving it to Jetsam to replace before floating over to the cauldron. She waves Ariel over, and she hurries after Ursula, though she still looks nervous.

Ursula performs the spell calmly, as quietly as she can. She could be fancy and intricate and loud, with flashing lights and smoke and dancing colors, but Ariel is shaken enough from just being here. Ursula has no desire to terrify the poor girl.

“There,” Ursula says, ignoring the way her heart yearns for something to be reflected in the water. Nothing has been there for years, and never will there be again. “In this you see who holds your heart. Your prince should be there.”

Ariel turns wide eyes on her. Her fingers hover over the edge of the cauldron. “I – how long do I have?”

“However long you may need,” Ursula says. She turns back to her notes before Ariel can answer.

And like this they spend some time, Ariel leaning over Ursula’s cauldron, losing her heart more with each image she sees. She cannot hear what happens on the surface, only see, but it seems to be enough for her.

“Your request is peculiar,” Ursula says after a Poseidon knows how long silence. She feels, more than sees, that Ariel spins around. The water is disturbed, sending one of her notes flying. She snatches it back with a lazy tentacle.

“But you will do it?” Ariel asks, desperately, voice high-pitched and worried. When Ursula casts her a glance her knuckles have gone white on the edge of the cauldron.

Ursula does not say that she had forgotten who Ariel’s mother was until she stepped into her cave. She does not say that she would do anything for someone with that hair. She does not say that she will not rest until Ariel has her love in her arms.

“Yes,” she says, and that is all she has to say.

She begins to talk about the spell after another few minutes of silence. How she has to combine other spells to make a new one, how she has to be careful about what sacrifices the spell asks for, how a spell will never allow a loophole…

she gets lost in foggy memories, re-living a past she will never again have, and almost forgets who she talks to.

And then Ariel pipes up with a question and the pretense shatters.

Ursula answers as well as she can, and then the torch switches hands. Ariel starts talking about Eric, and if her voice drifts towards his surroundings more than he himself, then Ursula isn’t going to comment.

The shell upon her collarbone is heavy.  


	2. Chapter 2

Ursula can’t sleep.

Flotsam and Jetsam aren’t there, and she’s alone, and she’s cold, and she’s shivering.

She’s thinking of Ariel. Of Athena, of Triton, of Nico. Of the blood on her hands that will never be fully washed away. Of the way her heart still beats, sometimes, in the lonely hours of the day – how it beats after something she will never again have.

Another shiver tears through her. She closes her eyes and presses the heels of her hands against them, grimacing into the darkness. It has been _years_ – she’s supposed to be strong, she’s supposed to be the _Sea Witch_ , she isn’t supposed to crack apart and be weak and be weak and be _weak –_

She cries for some time. She doesn’t try to control it, knows it will stop by itself.

A shiver, a muffled sob, and she inhales sharply, deeply, holding her breath until her chest stops heaving.

A whispered incantation, the smallest tug on her magic, and she lets herself fade into sleep.

When she wakes, Flotsam and Jetsam are curled up on her chest.

*

She has a few libraries. There are of course the public ones, in her greeting and working room, but her caves consist of more than that. Beyond the first chambers are long and hidden hallways and corridors, leading to her bedroom, to her stores, to her altar, to the lounge –

and to her past.

There are books in every single room. General in her sleeping chambers, lists upon lists of correspondences and dangers and what’s and how’s and why’s in her stores, worshipping by the altar, stories in the longue – and in the final, most hidden room of them all, is a collection of her very first notebooks.

This is where she finds herself the next day, fingers dancing and trailing over leather-bound books that haven’t been used in years. There are no symbols on them. No timestamps or markings to show when they were written. And now, several years later, she finds that she cannot remember why that is.

She pulls out one at random. It’s a mess – no system, no numbers, no index, nothing to make sure she could later make sense of what was going on. The pages are littered in scribbles and doodles and sketches, lists of herbs intermingling with incantations and retellings of her day. There is a flower, and here is a shell, and there is a warning reminder for what happens when one mixes two types of coral.

She scoffs, somewhat fondly, at her younger self. Careless mixing of corals is a beginner’s mistake. By now the warning riddle she’d made rings easily in mind whenever she needs it.

Flipping to the first page the scoff becomes a small smile. The timestamp in the top left corner dates her to be no older than nineteen. The beginning of her career – she probably hadn’t been in her teacher’s care for more than a few months. Beneath the time stamp…

the smile turns pained.

Her name shines out at her, written with a certainty she only finds in spells nowadays. Beneath it, in the same sure letters – _Apprentice Sea Witch._

Ursula closes the book quietly.

There had been a time she’d been proud of her title. There had been a time it was worth it.

There had been a time she was loved.

She stuffs the book back into the shelf and drifts further, pulling out another one. It’s a fair bit older, it seems – thicker, more used but better taken care of.

The timestamp says she’s twenty-two.

The book has an index, but poorly executed, and there aren’t numbers on every page – but at least there’s only one topic on each page, this time. She chuckles. Sometimes she still struggles to do that in her personal notebooks, so she supposes she can’t fault her younger self.

As she’s about to close the book a lone paper slips out between the pages. Slowly it drifts to the floor.

Ursula blinks. She puts down the book, then bends, picking up the paper –

Her heart stills. Her ribs tighten around her lungs she takes a step backward, dropping the page as though bitten.

She had been a formidable artist – still is, though she never draws anything but herbs.

Athena beams up at her from the floor, forever captured in a sketch, hair and lips red, eyes a piercing green that some part of her still complains isn’t _quite_ right.

“Ursula?”

She jumps, spins around, and comes face to face with a worried Flotsam.

Of course. Of course. They are tied to her by magic, can sense whenever she has problems –

“Flotsam,” she says, and her voice _does not_ shake, it _does not_.

Flotsam’s gaze drifts, lands on the drawing on the floor, and the painful jerk of their head speaks volumes. They say nothing, only swims over, curling and twisting around her torso – once, twice, then settling around her shoulders.

They say nothing. There is nothing that can be said.

Ursula stares at empty space before her. Then, with one trembling hand, she reaches up to brush her fingers over Flotsam’s scales. She closes her eyes. Breathes. Breathes.

“Shall I tell Ariel to wait?” Flotsam asks, their voice low, and close, and warm.

“Ariel?” Ursula repeats, snatching her hand back and trying to look at their face. “Is she here? Again?”

“Aye.” Worried. Uncertain.

She makes for the door, leaving the drawing and her beating heart behind. “No, no – are you mad? Show her in.”

“Are you sure?” Flotsam asks, tightening around her shoulders before sliding away.

Ursula scoffs, rolling her eyes as she goes through the long and crooked hallways. “When have I ever not been sure?”

The heavy silence that follows is more than enough answer, and Ursula shoots Flotsam a dirty look.

Jetsam is waiting with Ariel in the working room, swimming in lazy circles around her. They look pleased with themselves, a rumbling hissing sound echoing through the water. Ariel looks a bit worried, but a lot more exasperated, and most of all resigned to her fate.

“Jetsam,” Ursula says, letting a slow smile onto her face. She _is_ pleased with them, and would have showered them in praise if her guest had been any other than Ariel. But it _is_ Ariel, and so there is a hint of exasperation in her voice, and Jetsam slowly untangles from Ariel to bump into Flotsam. The two eels cackle quietly to each other, swimming in a practiced pattern as they disappear out of the room.

Ariel draws a deep breath, pulling a hand through her hair. “Bless you,” she says. “He was – ”

“They,” Ursula interrupts, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “None of them are he’s.”

Ariel blinks at her, hand frozen in her hair.

Ursula glares back.

And Ariel bursts into a wide beam. “Sorry,” she says, but there’s joy in her voice. “I didn’t know – but now I do, and it won’t happen again. Did you know, my sibling Arista, they’re the same way?”

Ursula deflates like a pufferfish. “I – no,” she says. _Thank you for telling me_ , she thinks, but she doesn’t say it, for it’s not Athena before her, it’s Ariel.

Ariel shakes her head. “I, uh – I was wondering if I could… see him? Again?”

“Certainly,” Ursula says. She raises an eyebrow, crosses her arms, and cocks a hip. “But don’t you have royal duties to tend to? Doesn’t Triton care if you disappear for a few hours each day?”

Ariel blushes. Poking her index fingers together she looks away, biting her lip. “I, uhm… might have… bribed Sebastian a bit…”

Ursula raises an eyebrow as she turns for her cauldron. “And who might that be?” she asks, pulling out the cauldron and snapping out a tentacle for the bottle of dried seaweed.

“Dad set him to spy on me,” Ariel says. Ursula can’t see her, but she doesn’t need vision to hear the flat look on her face. “But it seems that my friendship mattered more to him than his King’s orders.”

Ursula freezes. _Spy?_ She forces herself to ease up, pulling the cauldron out onto the floor. “Wise of him,” she mutters, “to value friendship.” She tugs the cork off the bottle with a little more force than necessary. “Not so wise of your father to assign a _spy_ to his daughter.”

Invasion of privacy. How old is Ariel again? She looks old enough to look after herself – even if she hasn’t reached full maturity, she cannot possibly be more than a year away from it.

“Yes, well,” Ariel says, flustered, toying with her own fingers. She isn’t looking at her. “He – he does it because he loves me.”

Ursula barks a laugh. “Oh, is that what he tells you?” She shakes her head and sprinkles the seaweed in. “He might think so, but it’s not familial love that motivates him, I assure you.” She has never known Triton personally, but Athena had introduced them once. Well – Ursula had been too hurt to really do much more than force a smile, but she’d analyzed him thoroughly. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d set a spy on Ariel because he didn’t want to lose his child.

The incantation leaves her mouth with ease, and slowly colors drift to the surface of the cauldron.

“How does that work?” Ariel asks, peering curiously at the colors. “I mean… it’s just seaweed…?”

Ursula blinks. “Well,” she says, slowly, weighing her words. She isn’t really supposed to tell someone who isn’t an apprentice, but… it can’t hurt, can it? “It’s mainly my own magic, but the seaweed is a very common plant. It exists everywhere and is supposed to have eyes in all the places it has been.”

“Would I be able to do that?” Ariel asks.

That’s it. Either she’s purposefully trying to be rude, or no one has ever taught her about the do’s and don’ts when it comes to sorcerers.

Ursula takes a bit too long to answer, and Ariel blurts a rushed, “Only, I don’t want to bother you to do this every time I want to – well, see him, I suppose – ”

Ursula smiles humorlessly. “You don’t have a drop of magic in you,” she says. The next words are sharp. “Without magic it won’t work. Without seaweed it won’t work. Without the cauldron it won’t work. It needs every single ingredient to work.”

Ariel looks to the floor. “I’m – I’m sorry,” she says, softly, quietly, and Ursula clenches her teeth at the echo of Athena in her voice. “I didn’t know I shouldn’t…”

Lacking knowledge, then. No need to take offence, then. “No one told you,” she says, gesturing dismissively. “You are not to blame for things you cannot control.”

Ariel stares at her with wide eyes. She says nothing, does nothing, only stares with those wide, shocked eyes.

A beat. “Well,” says Ursula gruffly, stepping back from the cauldron and jabbing her thumb at it. “It’s all yours.”

*

Ursula moves around Ariel with ease. She’s used to her cauldron taking up space in the work room, and it’s never been a problem before. It doesn’t require a lot of work to add Ariel to the mental map.

She updates the list of items she has in her everyday-use stores, restacks some of the most crucial ingredients, takes note of what she needs to have more of, and sends Flotsam and Jetsam off to find some of it for her.

And then there’s nothing more for her to do, except float around mindlessly and moving a bottle here or there. That’s a waste of time, to be quite honest, but Ursula doesn’t want to leave Ariel alone in the work room – nor does she want to just stare at her.

Alright. Conversation it is.

She stands and moves across the room, resting her elbows on the opposite side of the cauldron. Ariel doesn’t speak or glance up, but she shifts, tilting her head slightly. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and it warms Ursula to see that she has her attention so easily.

“What do you see?” she asks, keeping her tone low.

Ariel hesitates. “His castle.” Her tone is low, as well – and still enough to disturb the surface of the lights. They flicker and dance across her face. “Him, more often than not, but…” She frowns down into the cauldron. “Sometimes his friends. His servants. And… sometimes none of them. Sometimes I’m just… floating through the empty halls.” She looks up, then, eyebrows drawn close together. The lights are reflected in her eyes. “What does that mean?”

Ursula chuckles and shakes her head. “Love is not black and white.” Ariel’s confused expression deepens. “This spell lets the watcher see whatever holds their heart,” she attempts to explain. “It matters not whether that love is romantic, platonic, or something else entirely. A parent might see their child, an artist might see their craft.” She shakes her head again. “It means only that you love his world as much as you love him. And that is not a bad thing, my child.”

Ariel hums softly, then looks down into the cauldron once more. “And you?” she asks. She does not look up. “What do you see?”

 

The lights dance. They swirl and twirl and flow around each other, tugging and twisting – and they form nothing. Ursula smiles grimly. “Nothing,” she says. “Nothing at all.”

*

Ariel comes back the next day. She doesn’t say what she’s there for, and Ursula doesn’t ask. She just gestures for the cauldron with one hand, not looking up from her books. Silence settles again.

Now, she’s fairly sure she’s getting closer to having a solid first-half of the spell. The transformation is truly the trickiest part – the legs, and lungs, and the whole thing with tolerating the pressure for longer times – it’s not as simple as to just give her _legs_. She needs to change every single cell in her body. But! She’s getting closer! The sacrifices are piling up, however – she’ll need to look into that.

She’s snacking on some shrimps Jetsam had caught for her when Ariel lets out a startled cry. “What!” she yells, straightening but not looking away from the cauldron. “No, no – this can’t be – no!”

Ursula looks over, swallowing the shrimp with a grimace. “What?” she barks. “What is it?”

“They’re marrying him off!” Ariel is gripping the edge of the cauldron so tightly that hadn’t Ursula made it herself, she would have been worried it would crack. “It’s his birthday, they’re forcing a wife on him – ”

Ursula’s blood becomes steel in her veins.

( _I’m getting married_ )

(wedding bells and cheering and Athena singing)

(a dream turned nightmare –)

“No, no,” Ariel whispers. Her eyes are filling with tears. She slumps over, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “He refuses – they argue – ” Her voice rises to a cheer. “He storms from the room!” And her voice falls once more. “But they’re not giving up so easily – ”

( _I wish I could’ve fought it wish I had a choice wish I’d know it was magic wish I wish I **wish I –**_ )

The lights flicker and disappear.

Ursula heaves after air. “Sorry!” she blurts, “Sorry, sorry – ” She grapples for her magic, directing it back to the cauldron. The lights flicker back.

Ariel stumbles away, staring at it with wide eyes.

Ursula is _stronger_ than this. She _must_ be, right now, for Ariel’s sake. And with practiced ease she pushes down the beat of her heart, the heave of her chest, cloaking herself in steel-cold determination.

She crosses the room in less than a second, aiming to offer comfort – and stops, hovering uncertainly behind Ariel. It crosses her mind that she hasn’t comforted anyone beyond Flotsam and Jetsam in several years. Hesitantly she puts a hand on Ariel’s shoulder – unsure if that’s okay, if it’s allowed, half-expecting Ariel to flinch away from her –

and Ariel promptly flings herself at her. She throws her arms around her neck, presses her face into Ursula’s shoulder, and _shakes_. “What do I do?” she whispers hoarsely, worry and sorrow and crass determination in her voice. “What if he marries?”

Thank Poseidon for conversation – keep both of their mouths busy so Ursula doesn’t have to think about what to do with her arms. “Do not lose hope, child,” she says, placing a hand on Ariel’s shoulder. “He’s human – even if he marries, he can still love you. Their hearts are great, they can hold many at a time.”

“I will never love any other!” Ariel cries, shaking her head against Ursula’s shoulder. “Never! I cannot!”

Ursula blows frantically at the water in front of her, lest she gets a mouthful of Ariel’s hair. “I know,” she says, bringing her other arm up as well. “I know, child, I know better than any.” She looks to the roof. “I shall make you human, so you can go to him, but I cannot make him love you.”

Ariel shakes. “He does,” she whispers, so quiet that it barely reaches Ursula’s ears. “He already does, I know he does, I can see it in the way he stares at the sea – ” She chokes on her own words, then muffles a wail. “But what if he _marries_?”

“Perhaps he won’t,” Ursula tries, desperate for Ariel to calm down, for her sorrow to settle. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Flotsam and Jetsam, the two of them frozen still as statues by the entrance. She gestures frantically for them to leave. “Let’s take it as it comes, child – there might yet be hope.”

Ariel shivers in her arms, then sniffles and nods. She starts to pull back. Ursula lets go instantly, backing off as though burned. “Yes,” Ariel says, sniffling again. “Yes, there – might yet be – ” She swallows, rubbing at her eyes, and turns back to the cauldron “I’m not leaving your side, my prince,” she whispers. The look in her eyes is so tender and soft that Ursula must turn from it. She doesn’t wish to intrude on such a moment.

“I’ll – be right back,” Ursula says, softly, more to herself than Ariel. She goes in the direction Flotsam and Jetsam had disappeared. They’re hovering right around the corner, eyes worried, twisting and turning –

they rush to her once she arrives. Ursula collapses against the wall, pressing her hands against her face. Flotsam and Jetsam swirl around her, close and closer still until their scales brush against her skin.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

“What plagues you, Witch of the Sea?” Jetsam asks, in the way they so often do, sounding indifferent when the worry really burns into their very bones.

Ursula gives no answer right away, slowly dragging her hands down her face. “Her – ” she tries, but she chokes off, pressing a hand to her chest as she forces herself to calm. “Her Heart might marry another,” she manages, finally, and it’s been _years_.

Understanding noises from Flotsam as they wriggle closer, pushing in under her arm, around it, settling across her belly. “Do you need a moment?” they ask, twisting their head to stare at Ursula with a piercing, yellow eye.

“We can tell the princess you have business to attend to,” Jetsam adds, twisting the other way so there’s an eel head on either side of her.

It’s a tempting thought – to disappear back to her chambers and stuff her face into the soft surface of her bed, thinking of nothing and doing nothing.

“No.” She hauls herself up once more, Flotsam and Jetsam moving with her as easily as they breathe. “No, she shouldn’t be alone.” She bats them away, bats her emotions away, bottles them up as though they were just another herb to her collection, and goes back into the room.

Ariel doesn’t look up. “They’re arguing again,” she says, worrying her lip. “He doesn’t want to marry, but – there’s something about a promise made to his dad? I’m not sure, they’re talking too fast to read…”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Ursula says, squaring her shoulders as she walks over to her notebooks. It’s more urgent now than ever to finish the spell.

Ariel nods distantly. “Do you… have a spare page?” she asks, after a hesitant pause. “I’d like to take notes…”

If she has a spare page? _If she has a spare page?_ “Poseidon’s halls, child, have you seen my collection?” she asks, half-heartedly attempting a joke even as her voice wobbles dangerously. “You can have a whole notebook if you so wish. I’ll find one.”

*

She has two whole shelves full of empty notebooks. She goes automatically for a basic, nondescript one one –

But a half-buried thought arises, and she stops.

She raises her hand a few shelves and grabs the oldest notebook she has. Leather-bound, died rusty red with powdered coral, the edges trimmed with gold and set with emeralds.

A wedding gift.

Ursula stares at it for a moment.

Then she returns to Ariel.

“Here,” she says, handing the book over. “This belonged to your mother.”

Ariel freezes, then blinks at the book, before looking up at Ursula with wide eyes. “It – did?” There’s suspicion in her voice, but confusion as well, and a terrible, terrible sorrow.

Ursula nods curtly. “And now it’s yours,” she says, flicking a pen over to her.

She grabs the pen, but is still frowning at the cover. Opening the book, the frown fades, a surprised look taking its place. “It’s empty,” she says, leafing through the pages in wonder.

Ursula turns away. “I know.” And her heart aches. “I know.”

*

She disappears completely into her sketching and note-taking. Before she realizes she’s filled up four whole pages of scribbling and sketching. There’s almost nothing remaining of her fingernails, and her hair is a mess. When she looks up it’s gone dark, Jetsam is asleep on top of a shelf, and Flotsam is watching her with tired eyes.

“Time?” she croaks, voice hoarse after too-long of no use.

Flotsam inclines their head. “Nearing the fifth hour.”

Ursula curses under her breath. The sixth hour is the peak of night – if they’re nearing the fifth it’s far too late to be up. She turns to Ariel, ready to tell her it’s late, but the words die on her tongue when she sees her.

The poor girl has fallen asleep on top of the cauldron, arm draped across the edge and cheek pressed against it. The notebook has fallen to the floor, half the page filled with neat scribbles and quite a few question marks.

She looks so peaceful where she lies – first now does Ursula see the bruises beneath her eyes. But she can’t keep sleeping there – her father will worry, and if he worries, he’ll come looking, and if he finds Ariel here –

She swallows.

“Ariel.” Ursula puts a hand on Ariel’s shoulder to stir her. “Ariel, you have to go.”

A muttered complaint, but then she raises her head, blinking sleepily at the room. “Wh…?”

“You fell asleep,” Ursula says, trying hard not to sound amused. “Apologies. I forgot the time. We’re nearing the fifth hour.”

She’s awake before the last word leaves Ursula’s mouth, sitting straight as a stick. “Dad!” she cries. “Oh, no!” She shoots up, frantically pulling at her hair to get it out of her face. “Oh, he’ll skin me! Ah – here, the book – ”

“Take it,” Ursula says, pushing the book back at her. “Go, now, before your father comes to tear my home apart.”

Ariel doesn’t even complain, only grasps after the book and stuffs it into her sachet. Then she halts, casting a glance to the cauldron, then to Ursula, and finally at the exit.

“Go,” Ursula says, lazily waving a hand at the door. “He’ll survive the night.”

“Thank you!” Ariel blurts, and then she’s gone.

Ursula stares at the spot she’d occupied and finds that she cannot remember the last time she was thanked.


	3. Chapter 3

When Ariel shows up the next day there are dark bruises beneath her eyes and slow-to-heal scabs on her lips.

“Ack, look at you,” Ursula exclaims, tilting Ariel’s chin upwards as she tuts at the drying blood. “Haven’t you slept?” Before Ariel has the time to respond, however, Ursula lets her go and fetches a balm in an abandoned clam shell. “Here,” she offers, holding it out to her. “It should help your mouth heal, at least.”

Ariel nearly sags in relief, grasping the balm with hungry hands.

“And here,” Ursula continues, handing her another abandoned clam shell, “this should help with the bags. Your father is going to worry if you look so tired all the time.”

Ariel nods, then tries to hand back the lip balm.

Ursula shakes her head. “Keep it. I’ve got lots – it’s not hard to make.”

“I didn’t know you knew healing,” Ariel says, putting the balm and shell into her satchel.

Ursula shrugs, floating back to sit down on the empty work-table. “Yes, well,” she says, glancing down at her nails and fighting a smug grin, “it comes with the title.”

Ariel hesitates for a moment. “How did you – ”

“ _Urrsulaa_!”

Ursula looks up.

That hadn’t come from the pipes.

Flotsam and Jetsam are swimming towards them, Flotsam with a muffled smile and Jetsam with the broadest, smuggest grin Ursula has ever seen on their face. Between them they hold a struggling, yellow fish.

Ursula laughs manically, reaching for the fish and grasping his tail with her hand. “And what do we have _here_?” she purrs, tilting her whole body into the sentence.

“A visitor,” Jetsam says, slithering around Ursula’s left.

Flotsam slithers around Ursula’s right, looping up around her arm. “Found him lurking around the entrance…”

Ursula turns back to the fish with the same menacing grin. “Has no one told you it’s rude to go barging in without knocking?” she asks him, again in that low, dangerous purr.

“Ursula!” Ariel says. “He’s my friend! Let him go.”

Ursula looks over at her with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were friends with spies,” she draws drily, giving the fish a disdainful look. The words spark a memory from days ago, and she squints. “ – would this happen to be Sebastian?”

“Sebas –? Oh – oh, no, no,” Ariel says, and then she laughs, a pearly laugh that sounds far too familiar. “That’s Flounder. My _friend_.” She emphasises friend, giving Ursula an extremely pointed look.

They stare at each other for a moment. Then Ursula sighs theatrically, looking to the roof as she lets go of Flounder.

He darts across the room and tangles himself into Ariel’s hair. Ariel laughs again, reaching behind her to pull him out. She runs lithe fingers down his spine. “Calm down, Flounder,” she says. “She won’t hurt you.”

Ursula drapes herself across the table, dramatically resting her chin in her hand. “Oh, won’t I?” she asks, drawing out the words and offering Flounder a predatory grin when he dares a look at her.

“No, you won’t,” Ariel says flatly.

“Not my fault your friend is a wimpy, scared little – ” she cuts off, glancing up at Ariel’s utterly, completely unimpressed expression. “…fish,” Ursula finishes lamely.

Ariel rolls her eyes, turning to grasp Flounder between her palms. “What are you doing here?” she asks, and worry seeps into her voice.

“I,” says Flounder, gaze jumping from Ariel to Ursula and back again. “I – you’ve been so much gone and I was so worried so I followed to make sure you’re safe and you’re _obviously_ not – ”

“Oh, Flounder, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m _fine_ ,” Ariel says, stroking a hand down his side. “I’m safe here, Ursula won’t harm me – look, she gave me a book!”

Oh, of course. Trust the girl to find the _book_ proof enough that Ursula isn’t going to hurt her. As though she wouldn’t be dead already if Ursula wanted it!

Flounder looks extremely sceptical.

Ariel sighs, putting the book down at the edge of the table. “She’s been letting me see Eric.”

“What!” Flounder exclaims, backing off before remembering where he is and bolting forward again. “She’s been making you look at _humans_?”

“Well,” says Ariel, rubbing her arm and looking to the roof. “More like I’ve been making her _show_ them to me…”

Flounder seems unsure about how to react, swimming in a circle around himself before shaking it off. “But – why are you – ?”

Ariel raises her chin. “He is my Heart,” she says. The words ring across the room, snapping through it like an iron whip, affecting them all and settling atop them like a cloak.

Ursula straightens. There’s a special moment in every creature’s life – the first time they admit to handing off their heart. The magic of the Sea watches over every such moment – and if there is truth to the words, then everyone who hears them will know.

Flounder gapes. “But – but he is – he’s a _human_!” he says, and there’s more confusion to his voice than anger.

“And I love him anyway,” Ariel says. “Soon I will be human, too.” She looks to Ursula and there’s a silent plea in her eyes. “Right?”

“Certainly,” Ursula says, leaning back on her arms as she levels Flounder with a challenging look. Flotsam and Jetsam twirl and shift around her. “It is Ariel’s choice.”

“You – you are the _Sea Witch_!” Flounder cries. “How can _you_ want something good for her?”

“ _Flounder_ ,” Ariel snaps –

Flounder turns to her with wild, wide eyes. “She _killed_ your mom!”

Silence.

Something flickers in Ariel’s eyes.

Flotsam and Jetsam tense, going completely still beside her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Ariel turns to Ursula. “Did you?” Her voice quivers. She has never sounded more like a child. Her eyes have never been more clouded.

And Ursula deflates. “…aye,” she whispers. “I did.”

Ariel closes her mouth. Closes her eyes, closes herself, closes her very being –

and leaves.

Ursula stares at the roof until her eyes go sore.

It’s not before later she realizes that Ariel left the book.

*

She does not come back the next day.

*

(it hits Ursula like a rock how hurt Ariel must be, if she’d rather stay away from her than watch over her Heart)

(and that hurts even more for she cannot explain, she cannot explain, she _cannot explain_ –)

*

“Ursula?” It’s Flotsam. “Ursula, you haven’t slept.”

“I need to finish this spell,” Ursula says. She does not mention the fact that her mind hasn’t thought a single thought in at least thirty minutes. “I need to…” She trails off, realizing that she isn’t holding her pen. Where is it? Where could it be?

She blinks.

She doesn’t have a sketchbook in front of her at all.

“Flotsam?” she croaks, her voice cracking like an egg, and she reaches for them, reaches –

Flotsam wounds themselves around her arm, snug, tight, close, closer, their heart beating against her skin. “I’m here,” they mumble, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Ursula breathes. “Jetsam,” she whispers, and she’s not sure how it happens, but then Jetsam is there as well, around her other arm, head resting on her shoulder, heavy, heavy, there, _warm_.

Ursula breathes.

Ursula breathes.

Ursula breathes.

( _I’m here_ )

(and then she wasn’t.)

“Will it never stop?” she whispers. “Will it _never **stop**_?”

( _I’m here I’m here I’m here I will not ever leave –_ )

The shell on her collarbone is cold against her skin.

Ursula breathes.

*

There is a reason Ursula has so many spells. So many notebooks, so many sketches, so many resources and herbs. It has always been a way to cope - if she fills her mind with thoughts, if she busies her hands, busies her tongue, then maybe she won’t hurt as much as she could or should.

Which is why she surrounds herself with books and prints and notes the next day, working harder than she’s done any other day. The work goes slow, but she’s determined, and the pain is still too real.

She doesn’t know how long time has passed, but her mind is buzzing, tongue twisting with half-muttered incantations, and -

“Ursula?”

Ursula goes completely still.

Ariel stands over by the entrance, hovering half-way into the shadows, eyes gleaming.

“Ariel,” Ursula breathes.

“I talked to Sebastian,” Ariel says, hands held close to her chest, shoulders tight, “about mom.”

Ursula’s grip tightens on the pen.

She cannot know. She cannot know. _No one_ knows, she _cannot know -_

“And he said?” she nudges – doesn’t want to break the pan, so she clasps her hands together, tight, tight.

Ariel comes closer, hair behind her like the sea at dusk. “He said - ” She swallows. “He said he found you - crying over her - ” She stops, looking conflicted, hands worrying the strap of her satchel. “Over her - ”

“Dead body,” Ursula finishes quietly.

It has. Been. _Years_.

Ariel closes her eyes. A pause. Slowly, slowly, her hair folding against itself, she sinks onto the other stone by the work table.

“Tell me,” says Ursula, voice gentle, “what did your father tell you?” She keeps her distance. Ariel keeps hers. “No one ever said what he made of the whole ordeal. I only experienced the aftermath.”

Ariel lowers her head, her hands still, tail unmoving, hair only wavering in the gentle stream. “He always told me that you were jealous. Of mom - because she married him.” She gives half-a-shrug. “That he was your Heart.”

Ursula stares at her for a long moment. Then she bursts into loud, guffawing laughter. “Triton! My Heart!” She flails back, covering her face in her hands as she tries to choke back on the wild laughter. “Oh, that’s the best I’ve heard!” She laughs a bit more, then gulps down a few deep breaths and rights herself. “Ack, my child, no - Triton is not my Heart, and will never be.”

Ariel sags over in relief - but she isn’t done, it seems. A question is burning in her eyes.

“Speaking of Hearts,” Ursula hurries. She doesn’t know what Ariel could possibly ask about, but the possibilities scare her. “Don’t you have one to attend to?”

With a start Ariel shots up, eyes wide, satchel nearly falling off her in her haste. “Of course! Yes! How long has it been, three days?”

Ursula follows Ariel with her gaze as she flitters through the cave, mildly amused at her antics. “Two,” she corrects. “The seaweed is on the second shelf to your left - the spell is active, you just need to add the weed.”

Ariel nods absently. “A pinch, right?” She grabs the bottle. “No, wait, two!”

Ursula chuckles. “Two is right. The notebook is on that other shelf, right there - yes. Yes.” She picks up her pen again, watching as Ariel sprinkles just a bit too much seaweed into the cauldron before flipping open the book. “Is your spy-friend going to cause you trouble today?” she asks, absently, picking at her nails.

“No,” Ariel says. “He is - can I have a pen? Thanks - back at the castle. I told him what I found out and we had a good old argument - but he let it go, after some time.”

Ursula snorts. “Did you bribe _him_ as well?”

Ariel stops, hand hovering over the page. Her cheeks redden. “...noooo,” she says, drawing out the word and tilting upwards towards the end.

She laughs, shaking her head fondly as she turns back to her work. There’d been a specific little knot of latin she’d been untying when Ariel interrupted.

A beat. The only sounds are the scratch of pen-against-paper from Ursula. Then –

“Ursula?”

She glances over.

Ariel is watching her, hands on the cauldron. The light of the spell flickers across her features. “I’m sorry.”

And for a moment they’re two completely different people with two completely different stories.

( _Ursula and Athena and Athena’s daughter and Ariel_ )

(every move Ariel has made has echoed of her mother and her mother and _Athena_ , and now for the first time with true sorrow in Ariel’s eyes and true _horror_ in Ariel’s soul Ursula realizes)

(they’re not)

(the _same_ )

 Ursula inclines her head and gives no response.

*

“So?” Ursula asks, when Ariel leans back from the cauldron an hour later. “Marriage or no?”

Ariel winces, rubbing the back of her neck. “No,” she says, and the echo of relief is strong in her tone. “No, he’s – he’s stubborn.” She smiles, absently, eyes focused on something far-away. “So, so stubborn.”

“Hm,” says Ursula, shuffling her books with a small smile. “Cancelled or just postponed?”

“Cancelled!” Ariel says, and the absent look morphs into a wide beam. “He made his stance very clear.”

Nodding, Ursula turns to her. “You’ll have to go home, soon,” she says, giving her a pointed look. “Your father is going to worry.”

Ariel stretches, slipping the notebook into her satchel and shouldering it on. “He is,” she says, sounding both exasperated, amused, and fond. “I’ll come back tomorrow!”

Hm. At least she’s making _plans_ , now. A great upgrade from just barging in.

Ursula watches her go with a smile.

*

She’s sitting by a coral reef, the water wavering gently around her. She feels lighter, thinner, brighter-

Ursula blinks.

She remembers this day.

“You’ve taken my daughter under your shell,” says Athena. Her eyes are gleaming. “Or should I say – under your tentacle?”

Ursula splutters, and _oh_ , that’s _her_ voice. “I – no, I am only – I want to _help_ , she deserves – ”

Athena snickers. “Stop that! I’m glad you’ve found each other, after all those years. But you can’t fool me!”

Clenching her hands, Ursula pointedly looks out over the coral reef. It hurts. It _hurts_. “I can fool myself,” she says, with the sharp boldness of her youth. “I can and will.”

Athena sighs, and then there’s the featherlight touch of fingers against the back of Ursula’s hand. “Ursula,” Athena says, softly, gently, “loving her won’t bring me back. I’m not her. She’s not _me_.”

“I know,” Ursula says. “I know, I know, I _know_ damnit – don’t you think I’ve _seen that_? She’s nothing like you! Too rude, too naïve, she doesn’t _understand_ when I – ”

“She is still my daughter,” Athena says, and her grip on Ursula’s hand tightens. “I love her, and nothing will change that. She _is not me_. You need to understand that.”

“I _do_ under – ”

“You _say_ you do,” Athena interrupts, curling her fingers around Ursula’s again. “But every time you look at her you see only me.”

Ursula stares at her for a moment. At her eyes and the well of kindness in them, at the determination and hope she knows flooded her blood since day one.

And then she crumbles, folding against her and pressing her face into her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and her shoulders begin to shake. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry, I’m **sorry** –_ ”

“Shh,” Athena mumbles, threading her fingers into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know, I know you are. But my sweet – you need to tell her. She deserves to know.”

Ursula bites back a shuddery sob, and Athena wraps her other arm around her, and they’re close, close, _close_ , never close _enough –_

Ursula wakes with a start, trembling hands, and the choked-off cry of _Athena_ on her lips.

( _it has been **years.**_ )

*

The spell is causing trouble again. It’s all coming together nicely, that’s not the problem - the whole transformation part is _probably_ safe - but the sacrifices are piling up. After a few _hours_ of looking, Ursula has finally found the book she needs. She’s leafing through it, now, noting down everything that she might able to do to lessen the sacrifices. There are a lot of things to choose from. She can, for example, mess around with how long the spell will be active. If it’s not a permanent spell, it requires less energy. Something about how locking the molecules in a body is harder than just changing them up… Perhaps she could do it so that Ariel is only human when she’s _above_ water - and if she is submerged, then she regains her tail. Yes, that is doable.

The second option is anchoring the spell to an item - say, a necklace, or a ring, or a book. Not ideal, as Ariel will be tied to the item forever, but it’s better than nothing. Perhaps she can combine them… yes, that would lessen the sacrifices by a third.

Otherwise… she could do it so that the spell consumes energy from its surroundings, or that it consumes energy from what Ariel _eats_ … oh, but that’s so _specific -_

and that’s when Ariel decides to make her entrance, storming into the work room with a furious expression, hair like a storm behind her. “I cannot believe him!” she exclaims, flinging her satchel onto the floor.

“Good day to you, too,” Ursula greets drily, not looking up from the book.

Ariel bends, tugging at her hair and groaning audibly. “He is such a dimwitted, stupid - ” She cuts herself off with a mighty scowl, seemingly lost for words.

“Arrogant, prejudiced little bastard?” Ursula supplements. Triton it is, then.

“Arrogant, prejudiced little _bastard!_ ” Ariel repeats almost before Ursula closes her mouth. “He just - ” She makes a sound that’s not quite a groan and not quite a yell.

Ursula chuckles, picking at her nails. “What’s he gone and done now?”

“He asked me if I wasn’t going to go find a nice, single merman soon!” Ariel exclaims. “And when I said I wasn’t, because my heart belongs to someone else, I have _found_ my Heart, he just - ” She cuts off with another groan, turning away and covering her face in her hands.

Ursula stops, giving her a sharp look. “Did he yell at you?” She wouldn’t put it above him.

“No! Even worse! He sat me down and tried to have a _serious talk_ \- ” Her voice becomes lower-pitched in a pathetic attempt at mimicking Triton’s voice. “It isn’t natural, he’s a human, you aren’t in love, stop worrying me, you’re just _imagining things_.”

(imagining, imagining, you’re just imagining)

(it was never real she was never yours it was all in your mind and you _lost -_ )

“Argh!” Ariel cries, twisting away towards the window, back straight and rigid. “He doesn’t _understand_ , why doesn’t he understand? I wish - ” She chokes, sinking to the floor. “I wish _mom_ was here.”

Ursula stares at her trembling shoulders, at her own trembling hands. The pain of Athena is echoed in them both, a hole the size of a mermaid in their lives and hearts and hope.

Ursula touches a trembling hand to the shell around her neck -

and begins to sing.

“ _Breathe, my dear, breathe, my love_ …”

Her voice - _her voice, **her voice**_ \- fills the cave, echoes, bounces, and she _feels_ uncertain but her voice - _her voice -_ doesn’t waver.

Ariel stiffens.

“ _Soon the daylight comes. Breathe, my dear, breathe my love, soon the darkness dies.”_

She takes a breath and dares to edge closer, slowly, slowly.

When she sings again, Ariel’s voice rises to meet hers. “ _I will watch over you, protect you from the night… I will watch over you, until the darkness dies.”_

Ariel is staring at her, eyes wide and mouth open, wonder and confusion ablaze in her gaze. “Mom’s - her lullaby?”

Ursula sits next to her. “I taught her that,” she says, quietly, softly, looking out at the view instead of Ariel. “I taught her every song she knew.”

“No, but that’s - that’s _mom’s voice_ , how are you - ”

Ursula shakes her head and presses a hand to the shell again. “No,” she says, and everything is back to normal, the rough scratch against her throat a familiar one by now. “ _This_ is your mother’s voice.” She smiles wryly. “Athena held my voice in her throat for many, many years.”

Ariel is silent for a moment. “Did you… did you know her?” She sounds young, so very young, and Ursula wonders how she could ever compare her to Athena.

“Know her?” she repeats, and dry amusement trickles into her voice. She hesitates, fingers curling around the shell before she forces herself to lower her hand. “Athena was…”

(say it. _say it. **say it,** you have to **say** it -)_

“Athena was my Heart,” Ursula says, and the words snap through the room with a shocking finality and the echo of bitter sweetness. She had never said it, never dared to say it, not even when Athena snapped out of the spell, and _now -_

Ariel inhales sharply. “But -”

“And I was hers,” Ursula continues, and even though her voice is quiet it pierces through the air.

A long pause. “Is that why you’re helping me?” Ariel asks. “Because I remind you of her?”

“No,” says Ursula, and smiles that same wry smile. “If anything, you remind me of _me_. We have the same eyes.”

Ariel is silent a bit more. “What happened? Why did she marry dad?”

The words _why didn’t she marry you_ rings through the air, unsaid - but not unknown.

Ursula leans back, onto her elbows, her hair falling out of her face. She considers her words carefully. There has never been a need to tell this tale – and now she finds that she struggles to find a place to begin. “There was a time when _Sea Witch_ was an honored title,” she finally settles on. “You had to be strong to get it - powerful, and tough. It was a royal title - the rulers of the land went hand in hand with the Sea Witch of their time.” She takes a dramatic pause, tilts her head back - sighs. “I became the Sea Witch apprentice when I came off age. I met Athena the same year.”

“And you fell in love?” Ariel asks, careful, quiet, cautious.

“And we fell in love,” Ursula repeats, and it hurts, it _hurts_ \- her past mistakes, she should’ve insisted, should’ve _known -_ “We were happy for many years. We both knew that we loved each other, but - Athena wanted to spare the words for our wedding, and so we didn’t say it aloud even once.”

Ariel shifts, intrigued now, arms folding over her tail. “Why did you never…?”

Ursula chuckles drily. “As I said. Sea Witch was an honorable title. It was allowed to fight for it, though it was rarely done.”

“Oh, no,” Ariel breathes.

“Indeed.” Ursula runs a hand through her hair. “Their name was Nico, and they wanted that title no matter what. So, to weaken me, they cast a spell on Athena.”

“Oh, _no!_ ”

“It was well known that the Prince loved beautiful music - and so Nico performed a very dangerous spell to switch our voices. They didn’t care if we died in the process - but, despite all the odds, it went well. Athena got my voice. I got hers.” She looks down at her lap. “I’ve had it ever since. Athena went off to seduce Prince Triton - and he fell in love.” A beat, and she chuckles quietly. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ariel asks, appalled, leaning forward, eyes wide. “You could’ve stopped it.”

Ursula can’t look at her. “She said - she said he was her Heart.” Her voice breaks when she speaks again. “And I believed her, because I loved her, and I wanted her to be happy. I let her go.”

“Even though…?”

“Even though she lied. I didn’t consider that it could be magic. I didn’t _think_ \- ” She cuts herself off before she can finish. Ariel doesn’t need to hear her self-loathing. “Anyway. Eventually Nico got tired of waiting for me to weaken, and they attacked. An idiotic choice - I won, of course. When they died the spell lifted of Athena.” She inhales, shuddery - she can still remember the metallic taste on her tongue, still remember the blood on her hands, the way her chest hurt and hurt and hurt and -

“She came to me immediately, apologizing faster than her heart could beat. And she said it, then, nay – _insisted_ that I was her Heart.”

“And were you?”

Ursula smiles sadly. “I’ve never experienced a stronger bonding in my whole life.”

“But she - you did - what _happened_?”

“Our voices were still switched - the spell had been permanent, while the one on Athena hadn’t. She wanted me to have my own voice again, wanted _her_ voice back - she told me, in tears, that she didn’t want to be a thief.” Breathe. Breathe. If she breathes her heart will calm and her chest will stop hurting and the memories will cease and she will be _fine_. “I did as she asked.” There’s so much she can say - so many words passing through her mind -

( _I’m sorry I tried I **tried** but I couldn’t and I loved her so much and she begged me and the spell couldn’t it **wouldn’t -**_ )

“She died in my arms,” Ursula says. Her voice creaks and crackles like old wood. “Triton blamed it all on me. And so I was banished, sent into exile - and I held onto the only thing that I still knew. My title and my work.”

“And ever since then…” Ariel says. “You’ve hurt?”

Ursula stays very still. She stares at her hands, at the shell in them, at how her fingers are trembling. She stands. “Don’t you have a prince to look to?”

She doesn’t look at Ariel when she hands over the seaweed.


	4. Chapter 4

Ariel takes her time to return home. Usually she rushes the trip both to-and-fro Ursula’s place - she certainly had this morning - but now… she feels weighed down by this new information. She isn’t sure what to do. She isn’t sure if she should do something at all.

Ursula hadn’t lied to her. Ariel had felt it - the magic, the bond, the _truth_ \- when she’d spoken. _Athena was my Heart_. She’s heard dad say that so many times before - _Athena, your mother, the love of my life, she was my Heart._ And he hadn’t lied, either, has never done - but mom only had _one_ Heart, and it hadn’t been dad.

Her mother. Her _mom_. Her mom and _Ursula_.

And the worst part is that she believes it. Had someone told her a mere month ago she would have called them mad. But _now…_ Now the flashes of hurt and pain makes _sense_.

Flounder greets her when she swims in through her window. “Ariel!” he exclaims, worried, turning in circles around himself. “Were you with - ” He glances around and lowers his voice. Despite the fact that they’re alone in Ariel’s _bedroom_. “ - _Ursula_?”

“Find Sebastian,” Ariel says, absently running a hand down Flounder’s side. “We need to talk.”

Flounder hesitates. Then he nods, disappearing out of the door as quickly as he possibly can.

Three minutes later a frantic Sebastian rushes in. “Ariel!” he cries, claws flailing. “What is it, my child, what is wrong?”

Ariel catches him before he can start clawing through every item of clothing she owns. “Sebastian!” she laughs. “Calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself. Nothing is wrong. There’s just… something I need to tell you.” She looks over at Flounder, who’s hovering by the door. “You _both_.”

“Is this about Ursula?” Flounder asks.

A beat.

“Ursula!” Sebastian cries. “Why for are we mentioning _her_?”

“Hush! Both of you!” Ariel says, rushing over to slam her door shut. “Yes, Flounder, it is. Sebastian…” She gives him a long, nervous look. “I’ve been… visiting Ursula. For some days.”

“ _Wha -_ ”

“She’s been letting be see Eric!” she interrupts. “And she’s going to make me into a human so I can be with him, but that’s not _important_ right now.”

Sebastian splutters. “Not imp - not _important_? How is that not important? Oh, what will your father say? What am I going to do?” He cradles his face in his claws, looking absolutely, utterly miserable.

Ariel grabs his claws and bats them away from his face. “Nothing! Nothing at all - I won’t hear a _word_ of this, okay?” She stares hard at him. “I’m serious.”

“Then what is it?” Sebastian asks, gently tugging away from her hold. “If not that you are visiting her, what is it?” He narrows his eyes. “Is this why you asked about Queen Athena, the other day?”

“They were Hearts,” Ariel blurts.

Silence.

“They were Hearts,” Ariel repeats, lowering her hands to her sides as she sinks onto her bed. “Did you know? Did you know mom loved Ursula? Or that Ursula loved _her_ , for that matter?”

Sebastian wails. “Oh, she has been filling your head with lies!”

“How do you know?” Flounder asks, swimming in a quick, worried little circle around her. “Did she tell you? Are you sure she didn’t lie?”

Ariel rolls her eyes. “Of _course_ I’m sure - she said the words! The bonding words! I felt them in my bones.” She shakes her head. “You didn’t know, then? You had no clue?” The question is directed at Sebastian. Flounder hadn’t been alive at the time.

“That Ursula was in love with the Queen?” says Sebastian. He scoffs. “I thought she was in love with the _King_ \- she was always so suspicious and pricky to be around.”

“Aren’t you listening?” Ariel exclaims. “Ursula was mom’s Heart, as well! They were in love! A rival witch cast a spell on mom, and her death was an accident - ” She cuts off with a sigh, rubbing her hands across her face. She sees it, now, it’s so _obvious_. “It was an _accident_ …”

Sebastian and Flounder exchange a look. “I think _you_ are under a spell,” Sebastian says drily. “This is not like you, Ariel. How can you not see that she lies?”

Ariel digs the heels of her hands into her eyes with a groan. “I know what I’ve seen!” she cries. “You don’t get it, you haven’t seen her like I have - you haven’t seen how she _hurts_.” She sighs, dragging her hands down her face before leveling both Flounder and Sebastian with a serious look. “She is helping me get to my Heart because she lost hers. Don’t you see it? _They were in love_. It was an _accident_.”

“Now, Ariel, Queen Athena loved King Triton very much,” Sebastian tries, in the same slow tones he’d used when she didn’t understand his lessons as a child.

“Oh, I’m sure she did,” Ariel says, “just as I love you, as I love dad, as I love my siblings. You _can_ love someone without them being your Heart, you know.”

They exchange a look again. “Look, Ariel, we are sorry, but…” Sebastian gestures vaguely with his claws. “It is just not easy to believe! Have you ever met Ursula? She and the queen…” He shrugs. “It is simply not likely, is all.”

“Of course I have met Ursula,” Ariel says, crossing her arms with a scowl. “I’ve been seeing more of her than anyone else lately. And _of course_ it’s likely, it _happened_. But Sebastian – didn’t you _know_ her? Don’t you remember those times? Before everything went wrong? Wasn’t it so, that the title Sea Witch was honored and, and…” She scrunches her nose, trying to remember Ursula’s wording. “And went hand-in-hand with the royals?”

Sebastian blinks. “Those days are long passed, Ariel,” he says. “Where did you hear that?”

“Ursula told me, obviously,” says Ariel. “Look, you’re not going to change my mind about this. She’s genuinely trying to help me. I’ve seen true pain in her. She sung mom’s song to me.” _In mom’s voice_ , she doesn’t add, because that would have been a lie.

To think – the soft, gentle voice from all her memories is actually _Ursula’s_.

“There’s nothing we can do to change your mind?” Flounder asks. There’s an edge of desperation to his tone.

Ariel shakes her head. “I’m going back,” she says. “And soon… soon I’ll be made _human_. With legs!”

Sebastian grimaces. “Thank you, Ariel, we know what a human looks like.”

Ariel laughs.

*

Ariel has never really been interested in reading – or, well, learning, for that matter. She can’t remember the last time she visited the royal libraries. And now, swimming inside for the first time in years, she’s struck dumb by the vastness of it.

And then she realizes that there are no books.

Engraved stone slabs fill up the shelves, slab upon slab upon slab, different colors and shades and types, and Ariel gapes.

It seems obvious, now that she’s thinking about it. Of course there are no books in the royal libraries. Books can’t survive properly under water – the pages dissolve and tear and the ink bleeds into the water. Ursula has them, though –

and so does she, doesn’t she? The notebook –

she stops, a hand trailing over the nearest stone. _The notebook_. ‘This belonged to your mother,’ Ursula had said, and it seemed to pain her to hand it over. She wants to hear that story, as well –

Ariel shakes her head and keeps moving. If she wants to know more about the title Sea Witch, she needs to find the sections about them.

Turns out there’s not so much about Sea Witches in the royal library. Ariel pulls down the few slabs she finds and drags them over to a deserted table. Once there she shuffles through her purse and finds the notebook Ursula had gifted her. It really is pretty. And knowing what she does now – _it belonged to your mother_ …

The red leather and faded emeralds really _do_ remind her of something.

“Funny how it fits me, too,” she mutters, tilting the book the other way. She really hopes it’s magic keeping the pages and ink together, and not close proximity to Ursula, or it’s going to fall apart soon.

Sighing, she opens the book to a new page, scratching out a quick _Sea Witch – title._ And with no further ado she grabs the nearest stone slab and begins to read.

*

It’s actually somewhat interesting. There’s a list of previous Sea Witches – including age, species, and gender – and what they were most known for doing. The list dates back _centuries_! Some of the Witches assisted royals through wars, some lived in peace, others married into the royal line itself.

The name _Aio_ is written above _Ursula_ , tied together by a direct line. Ariel wonders if it means they’re related, for a brief second, but Aio was a longnose gar – not even _close_ to an octopus. Perhaps Aio was Ursula’s tutor? _Nothing worthy of notice_ , stands behind his name.

Ariel catches the short flash of _Ursula wouldn’t agree_ , allows the thought to live, and moves on.

And then there’s Ursula’s name. _Murdered Queen Athena and brought disgrace to all witches_.

Ariel has to put away the list for a moment, lest she breaks it in two.

*

She asks about the books later that day. One eye is on Eric in the cauldron, the other on Ursula moving around the room – sometimes murmuring to one of her eels, sometimes saying something to herself, reading the labels on the jars and bottles around the rooms, scribbling things in her books as she goes.

“How come you have books underwater?”

Ursula stills, one hand hovering over a tiny blue bottle. She turns to Ariel, and there it is again, that terribly vulnerable expression, the one she probably thinks she can hide, the one that bleeds pain and cries sorrow. “Spells,” she says, and her voice doesn’t shake. “I obtain books by trade, and some I find, and others I make. I need the ingredients, of course, but once I have them there’s no problem to spell a book into existence.”

Well, that answers that. “The one mom owned,” Ariel continues, tracing a line along the edge of the cauldron. “Did you make that?”

Something painful and raw flickers across Ursula’s face. She turns. “I… did, yes.” She plucks the bottle from the shelf. Ariel winces, expecting it to break from the way Ursula had clenched her hands mere moments before – but she handles the glass with delicacy and gentleness. “It was… a wedding gift.”

“She never wrote in it,” Ariel recalls.

“…Triton didn’t let her,” Ursula says. “He said – they both thought – ”

She sees the way Ursula struggles, the way her shoulders twitch, and Ariel understands. “That it was unnatural,” she finishes for her.

Ursula slumps over. “…yes.”

“It wasn’t,” Ariel says. “Isn’t. Mom would have loved it, if she hadn’t been…”

_Spelled. Bewitched. Forced into a marriage she didn’t want._

Ursula gives her a short, sharp glance.

And then she smiles a smile so small and pure and wonderous that Ariel can’t believe she ever thought this woman was _evil_.

“She would,” Ursula agrees. And then she goes back to work, and Ariel goes back to watching Eric, and their past is a little bit more mended.

*

And things continue like that – Ariel visiting Ursula once a day, Flounder and Sebastian fretting over her when she returns home, noting down discoveries about both Eric and Ursula herself. And every single time – every time! – Ursula lets more and more of herself go, and Ariel realizes more and more how wildly wrong she was to judge based on appearances.

And then, maybe three weeks or so after she first started showing up, the routine changes. Where Ariel at the beginning had come purely to check on Eric, she now comes to – well, to check on _Ursula_ , as well. And maybe it’s to gather more ‘proof’ for Flounder and Sebastian (and she says ‘proof’ because it _isn’t_ proof, it’s just how Ursula _is_ – it’s not her fault her friends are thick in the head!), and maybe it’s to cover a smile as Ursula croons to her eels, and maybe it’s to lure another song out of her, and maybe it’s to discover a bit more about her mom, about her mom’s _Heart_ , and okay, so maybe it’s just to spend some time with Ursula as well, because she happens to _like_ her sarcasm, okay, Sebastian?

Besides – there’s such an _easiness_ in Ursula’s cave. There aren’t any expectations – not from Flounder, who expects her to be the brave friend who can take a beating, nor from Sebastian, who expects her to behave and be nice and sing songs that don’t come from her soul. Or from dad, who sees more of mom than her in her sometimes, or from the kingdom, who wants a princess –

there’s just Ursula, who sometimes is too busy with herself to care much for what Ariel does, who lets her stay and treats her like any other sea creature. There’s just Ursula, who expects Ariel to be _Ariel_. She’s seen the reflection of mom in Ursula’s eyes before, knows that sometimes Ariel reminds her of mom, but it’s nothing like the way dad sometimes looks at her, with longing and sorrow and heartbreak.

Sometimes Ursula looks at her with _hope_. And often it’s drowned in guilt, and pain, and shadows, but it’s _there_. And it keeps Ariel going.

She spends a lot of time gazing into the cauldron, and a lot of time writing, and some time talking to Ursula. And a few times she hovers over by her shoulder, asking what she’s working on, what she’s writing, what’s the most recent problem?

And Ursula twists the books so Ariel can see better and explains in soft tones, tapping on sketches and directing Ariel’s hands gently when she points to the wrong things. And when Ariel spent the previous night pouring over stone slabs about magic and Sea Witches and spells and is too tired to keep up, she falls asleep on Ursula’s shoulder, and Ursula lets her.

And when the pain is too fresh on Ursula’s face to talk about, when her eels hover close by at all times, when she barely even talks… well, Ariel can fill the silence with her own words, and she can pretend she doesn’t see the grateful and amused looks Ursula casts her way.

And when Ariel complains about dad, who doesn’t understand, or Flounder, who worries, or Sebastian, who frets, or her sisters, who blame everything wrong on her – Ursula offers sarcasm as comfort and joking promises of turning them into tadpoles, and Ariel laughs and laughs until her stomach aches.

But nothing lasts forever, whether it be good or bad.

And Ariel grows careless.


	5. Chapter 5

Ariel hasn’t visited in four days.

Ursula has deduced that she must hate her.

Flotsam isn’t having none of it. “Why do you always assume the worst?” they ask, sighing in exasperation.

“How is that the worst?” Ursula puts down the book she’d been reading with a little more force than necessary. “Her having enough of me is way better than the alternative - her death! Or her kidnapping! Or her falling sick!”

Flotsam takes a sharp turn around her. They give her a stern glare. “True,” they allow, “but not helping your point. Maybe something’s come up - Triton, or that crab, the fish - ”

“Sebastian and Flounder,” Ursula interrupts.

Flotsam’s look speaks volumes.

Ursula groans, half-heartedly batting them away. “Yes, well, what do you propose I do about it?”

“You could check up on her,” Jetsam suggests, having the nerve to sound _dry_ on top of the shelf in their little corner.

Ursula casts them a flat look. “And how, exactly, would I do that?”

Flotsam rolls their eyes, floating over to Jetsam. “The same way Ariel has looked at her princey boy the last few weeks,” they say, nudging their sibling off the shelf with a pleased little hum. “You know how to do the Animus Spell, don’t you?”

Every single muscle in her body freezes up. “That,” she says, coldly, harshly, straightening up to her full length, “is not. Going. To work.”

“Ursula – ”

“I haven’t seen anything in that cauldron in _decades_ , Flotsam!” Ursula cries, sending a book flying through the room. “Nothing! Nothing for years! Not even _you –_ ” She cuts herself off, then decides against it, and ploughs ahead even louder than before. “Not even you! I never saw you! I never saw anything but – _her_ –”

Flotsam bristles, but rises against her, snapping out in their hissy voice, “And now you will see her daughter! How many times haven’t you looked at her fondly? How many times haven’t you appreciated her presence, cried over her absence, fallen into depression when she’d gone?” They heave after air. Jetsam lifts themselves up and floats closer, flanking Flotsam with a seemingly undisturbed expression. “She’s pulled you out of the dark, Ursula! I haven’t heard you use your voice in _years_ , and now you’re shifting between them at Ariel’s whim! She gives you a _look_ and you burst into song!”

Jetsam chimes in. “You read each other like open books. We see how she looks when you turn away.” They adopt an uncharacteristically serious look. “We _see_ you, Ursula. We see you both.”

“Try,” Flotsam whispers, edging closer, brushing against Ursula’s arm as they swim pass. “At least _try_.”

Ursula closes her eyes.

(she _dares. not. hope._ )

“Okay,” she says, and moves towards the cauldron.

Her blood is rushing in her ears, heart thumping loudly in her chest as she grapples for the cork of the seaweed bottle, fingers shaking as she adds it to the bowl, and she cannot even hear her own voice as the incantation falls from trembling lips –

(she won’t see anything she _will not_ )

(despite it all, through all these years, there has never been _anything_ in the cauldron except Athena, always Athena, never anything else –)

(not even Flotsam and Jetsam, her children, her best friends, her siblings, her supporters through thick and thin, and _if she hasn’t **loved** them then what **has** she_)

(and of _course_ she won’t see anything she’s broken she’s _broken –_ )

The spell flickers to life –

the lights dance, twist –

and Ariel –

appears.

Ursula stares.

She closes her eyes.

Breathes.

Breathes.

When she opens her eyes again the tears are gone.

Flotsam says nothing, but surely they can guess that they were right, for they press up against Ursula’s side, warm, close, warm. Jetsam is on her other side, close, warm, close –

Ursula leans forward and looks into the cauldron.

Ariel is sitting in a room, bent over the notebook Ursula had given her. She’s writing somewhat frantically, her hair the most unkept Ursula has ever seen it, brow furrowed in a concentrated frown.

There’s a window in the room, and a door – but the window is small, and the door bolted shut. Upon closer inspection, the wall around the window looks… newer, somehow, than the rest of the room –

“They’ve shut her in,” Ursula whispers, and her lips are numb.

A beat. “ _What_?” says Flotsam, a breathy hiss, twisting to look into the cauldron. They can’t see Ariel, obviously, but they seem determined to try. “They’ve _what_?”

Ursula’s fingers tighten on the edge of the cauldron. “Her door is bolted, the window bricked – ” She falls silent as Ariel leans back, allowing her full view to her notebook.

The visible pages are filled with sketches and notes and desperate, hope-filled scratches of plans and question marks and names Ursula can’t recognize.

“And… and she’s planning an escape,” she says, struck dumb by the fierceness in Ariel’s eyes, in the furious sharpness of some of the letters on the page.

Ariel jumps, then stuffs the book beneath her satchel. And just in time as well, it seems, for the door swings open a moment later. A mermaid, dull-brown in color, carries a tray of kelp, coral, and something that looks like caviar into the room. She puts it down on Ariel’s desk, bows, and makes to leave –

Ariel grabs her wrist and pulls her back, saying something, and there’s a desperate look to her eyes.

The mermaid answers, but the answer is apparently not satisfying, for Ariel only lets go and sinks back into her chair. The servant disappears out of the room, leaving only the tray with the food, and Ariel rubs a hand over her face.

“We have to help her,” Ursula says, without thinking, without considering, without hesitating. She stands up, and her arms are shaking. “Flotsam, Jetsam – you must go to her, ask her what to do – she might need an outside helper.” She glances over at her work-table, filled with books and scraps and a single page with a detailed description of a finished spell. “And tell her…”

Ursula swallows, then turns to meet Flotsam’s gaze. Determination wells inside of her.

“Tell her the spell is done.”

*

While Flotsam and Jetsam disappear out of the cave, Ursula hurries to pull out the crystal ball she’d assigned to them ages ago. A drop of blood and it’s activated, two eyes forming the sight of one person.

Ursula settles back. She wrings her hands anxiously, time and time again. She _hates_ waiting.

After a long swim, her loyal little eels arrive to the castle, sneaking in and around guards and watchers, up along the castle wall, dark against the pale brick. Meanwhile Ariel keeps writing, though it has slowed now, a cloud of hopelessness brewing in her eyes.

“ _Ariel…_ ” comes the hiss from Jetsam, and in the cauldron, Ariel starts, looking over to her window. A flash of green, then yellow, and both Flotsam and Jetsam have slipped in through the small opening.

“Flotsam!” Ariel exclaims, standing from her chair in surprise. “Jetsam, what are you – ”

Jetsam lets out a hissy laugh. “Thought you might want some help,” they offer, sliding across Flotsam to get closer to Ariel. “Ursula sent us.”

Ariel hesitates. “How… how did she know I was…?”

Both Flotsam and Jetsam tense. “Well…” Jetsam says, casting Flotsam an uncertain look. They’re waiting for Ursula’s response.

She clutches at the crystal, sinking onto the work table, cradling the cold stone in her hands.

( _be brave_ , part of her whispers, _be brave, she deserves to know)_

“Tell her,” she whispers, and even she can hear the desperation in her voice.

“She worried,” Flotsam says. “When you didn’t visit. So she…” They glance over at Jetsam for support.

Jetsam rolls their eyes. “She saw you in the cauldron,” they say. “Yes, that cauldron.”

“But,” says Ariel, uncertain, nervous. “But that’s – ” She blinks, then puts a hand to her chest. A slow, warm smile spreads on her face. “Oh…”

“The spell,” Ursula urges, for she can’t _bear it_ , can’t stand that warmth, doesn’t _want_ to hope that it’s directed at her. “Tell her about the spell!”

“She also wishes to inform you that the spell is completed,” Jetsam adds smoothly, before the silence can become strained.

Ariel widens her eyes. “Wait, can she – ” She gasps. “Your eyes, _of course_ – Ursula? Can you hear me?”

Ursula blinks. Then she tilts her head back and roars with laughter. “Oh, yes, and see you, too!” she exclaims. “You are too smart for your own good.”

“She can,” Flotsam says drily. “And she says you’re too smart for your own good.”

Ariel smiles again, lowering her arms to her sides. “Thank you for coming to get me,” she says, soft, grateful, and it’s obvious that the words are directed at Ursula and not her eels.

Ursula clears her throat. “Yes, well, of course. Uh – the spell is done, after all.”

“The spell,” Jetsam repeats. “It’s done.”

Ariel gasps, straightening up so abruptly that Ursula is surprised her back doesn’t break. “Well – why are we still _here_? Get me out of here!”

“Ariel,” Ursula says, glancing over at her cauldron and wincing at the bolted door. Flotsam echoes her words. “If you leave now, in this condition, your father might never – ”

“I don’t _care_!” Ariel snaps, interrupting them both. “Dad has made it obvious what he thinks about Eric, and I – I love him! He’s my Heart! His _world_ , I can’t just –” She takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “I won’t stop loving him no matter what dad does.” She raises her chin. “I’m coming _now_.”

There’s no use arguing when she obviously knows what she wants and what the price will be. Ursula inclines her head. “Very well. Flotsam, Jetsam, tell her to pack whatever she wants to take with her. Break the wall when she’s done, and hurry out of there. The sound will alert the guards, you _must_ be quick!”

Flotsam repeats this, and Ariel nods, starting to stuff a few choice items into her satchel. Ursula notes, pleased, that her notebook goes in first.

Then Ariel hesitates, hand hovering over a bracelet. “Whatever I want to take with me, you say?” she asks.

“Yes,” says Flotsam.

And Ariel turns, her hair ablaze, her eyes set, expression determined. “Ursula,” she says, looking right into Flotsam’s eye, right into Ursula. “Come with me?”

And Ursula’s whole world stops. “What?” she whispers.

“You said to bring whatever I want to take with me,” Ariel says, “and I want to take you.”

Ursula doesn’t even know what to think. “Why?”

Ariel loses some of her fight, rubbing a hand against her collarbone. “You said – you said you see me. In the cauldron.” She shrugs. “Hadn’t Eric taken up the space, well… I would have seen you, as well.”

Ursula breathes.

(she would have seen her would have seen her would have _seen her –_ )

“I haven’t,” she says, but her voice cracks, and she must try again. “I haven’t moved outside of my cave since – since Athena,” she whispers. “Not to mention above _sea_ –”

“Time to stretch your tentacles, then,” Ariel says, cracking a cheeky smile. “Tell me, Ursula – what do you have to live for, here? Banishment? Exile?”

Ursula closes her eyes.

( _she’s right she’s right she’s right,_ when she leaves there’s nothing left, when Ariel leaves Ursula will have _nothing –_ )

 “Flotsam and Jetsam,” she says.

Flotsam pauses, then turns to Jetsam, and when they whisper _us_ they sound terrified.

“Ursula!” Jetsam exclaims. “We’d follow you to the end of the world! You _know_ we would! What is losing this form, when the payment is your happiness?”

Ariel waits, perhaps for a response from Ursula, but her heart is in her throat and she can’t _breathe_ , there are tears in her eyes and she can’t _see –_

“Please,” Ariel whispers. “I don’t want to choose between you and him.”

Well, that settles it.

“I’ll… I’ll pack my things,” Ursula says meekly.

Ariel beams.

*

She brings her dearest and most-used grimoires, the bottles with the rarest ingredients she has, her favorite pen, a few different trinkets –

and, right before she leaves, she grabs the old sketch of Athena, as well. She tucks it into a book, hopes it will survive the journey, and doesn’t look back.

*

(She swims with Ariel on one side, Flotsam and Jetsam on the other, and the water is clear and fresh and the _sunlight_ , she sees _sunlight_ for the first time in decades –)

(and when they breach the surface of the sea and Ursula breathes _air_ she nearly cries.)

*

“Do you think he’s going to like me?”

Ursula scoffs, treading carefully on the sand. It’s strange, having two limbs rather than eight, and seeing dark brown skin instead of pale blue, and being _dry_ instead of _wet_ , but –

she’s free _._

She’s _free_.

“If he doesn’t I’ll slap him for you,” Jetsam offers, walking arm-in-arm with Flotsam. They’ve taken the forms of children, twins, dark-haired and with one blind eye each, skin a duller brown than Ursula’s.

Ariel looks the same as always, only given legs to match her body, and she’s the one who takes the quickest to walking.

There are identical bracelets around their wrists.

A shape appears around a rock some space before them, and Ursula tenses. She’s not quite sure how to explain this situation, but she’ll have to manage, somehow –

“ – Ariel?” the shape cries, and then it’s running, twisting and shaping into a human man.

Ariel gasps. “Eric,” she whispers. “But – but how does he know – ”

And Ursula understands. She can’t quite help the small smile that blossoms on her face. “Well,” she says, looking down at her nails, “sometimes Hearts share dreams.” Ariel turns wide eyes on her, and Ursula gestures dismissively. “Go to him. He’s been longing as much as you.”

Tears well up in Ariel’s eyes, and then she runs. “Eric!” she yells, and they’re laughing, the both of them, spinning in each other’s arms, and Eric looks just as happy to have Ariel as Ariel is to be there. “Eric, Eric, Eric,” Ariel chants, laughing and crying among each other, and she presses their foreheads together, winds a hand into his hair, and then she pecks him on the lips, and oh, now she’s laughing again.

Ursula watches fondly, crossing her arms over her chest with a small smile.

Flotsam casts her a glance. “You aren’t upset?”

She hums, considering it – and while there is a dulled, pained ache within her, it’s melting away in the afternoon sun, drying out as fast as the waterdrops still clinging to her skin. “No,” she says. “I’m happy for her.” She sighs, looks back over at where Ariel and Eric are talking together in loud, happy tones, and drags a finger down the side of her shell. “I think…” she says, determination and calm content swelling in her heart. “I think it’s time to let her go.”

They both know she isn’t talking about Ariel.

A gentle, small tap against the side of the shell, and the voices in her throat shift.

A small hand slips into Ursula’s. She starts, glancing down at Flotsam. They’re smiling, a small little thing, their hand pale against Ursula’s. “I’m proud of you,” they say. “You’ve come a long way.”

“Ah, well,” Ursula says, in _her_ voice, offering a wobbly smile back. “Don’t blame it all on me.”

She looks up just in time to see Ariel grabbing Eric’s hand, pulling him closer. “Come, Eric! You have to meet my family!”

Ursula closes her eyes and comes home.


End file.
